Helix Nexus by Chris Lofts (spiritual books to read .txt) 📗

‘That was before you took a nose-dive out the window from the 55th floor,’ he mumbled to himself. He sniffed a laugh at Ormandy’s arrogance. Jesus. Yawlander would have blown a gasket at the thought of her assuming command. ‘Politicians? Pink faced earnest men and women who are Teflon coated so the shit doesn’t stick.’ That was one of his favourites. ‘What we need is an iron fist in a velvet glove.’ He glanced at his own carbon fibre and titanium fist inside its leather glove and flexed his fingers.

‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ a voice said, shaking him back to reality.

Helix blinked in the dim light at the man who’d spoken. ‘What the fuck do you want, Finch?’ He squeezed his glass to the brink of destruction.

‘Hell of a day, huh?’ Captain Elias Finch said, running his hand over his slick black hair. The ends of his pencil moustache tilted upwards with the sarcasm in his grin. ‘I saw you talking to yourself so I thought I’d come over and say hi.’

Helix stared into his glass. ‘Hello. Now fuck off.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Finch tugged at the cuffs of his jacket. ‘Shit news about Yawlander. He was a good egg. I liked him.’

‘Finch,’ Helix said, raising his eyes from his glass. ‘the only person you like is yourself.’

‘Heard the selectors knocked you back.’ He ran a finger over his moustache. ‘Bad luck, man.’

‘At least I got selected. You still trying, or have you finally got the message that you’re not good enough?’

Helix waited for an answer. Folding his arms was the best Finch could do.

‘Listen, jug ears,’ Helix continued, ‘I know getting on people’s tits is a hobby of yours, but you’re one button away from getting your lights punched out. Why don’t you go and find some small furry creatures to torture? You could start with the one on your lip.’

‘Fine.’ Finch laughed from the safety of the other side of the table. ‘I’ll leave you with your imaginary friends.’

Helix exploded from his chair, his half-drunk pint almost toppling as his thighs lifted the side of the table. He caught the glass as it slid towards the edge, ignoring the eyes turned towards him. The momentary hush evaporated as people returned to their drinks and conversations.

‘Twat,’ he muttered as Finch sauntered into the crowd.

Finch was the department chancer, always on the periphery, universally unpopular, snooping, listening, brown-nosing with the leadership. More devious than dangerous. Helix finished his beer, pondered another. No. He needed to get to the Meridian.

‘Another pint, Helix?’ Tanya said from the edge of her group.

‘What? Oh, no. Thanks. I need to crack on,’ he said, forcing a smile.

He looked on as Tanya melted into the crowd. The way he’d melted away from her. The one he’d let get away. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket feeling the edges of the folded letter he kept there. The letter from another he was in danger of allowing to melt from his life. Things were going to change. Yawlander was gone. New brooms always wanted to make a clean sweep. It was time to take the initiative rather than being swept away.

5

Gabrielle Stepper’s parting gift to Helix had been the house she once shared with Justin Wheeler: the Royal Observatory, in the former world heritage site of Greenwich Park, renamed The Meridian. Like the grateful nation that had gifted the property to her, she had made the same gesture to Helix when she’d embarked on her new life away from London, away from any of the cardinal cities.

For Helix, it evoked too many memories. He rarely visited, preferring his own digs deep in the tunnels of the disused underground station at Down Street on the Piccadilly line between Green Park and Hyde Park Corner. Ethan felt exposed on the top of the hill, but he was making a go of it, claiming it would do until he found somewhere more discreet. That hadn’t stopped him from converting Gabrielle’s former BSL 4 laboratory into his own version of a man cave.

It had taken Ethan less than a minute to liberate Helix’s untraceable AV from the bowels of the Ministry of Home Defence. Two minutes later Helix had climbed aboard as it drew alongside him in Crucifix Lane. Twenty-eight minutes later, the biblical rains intensified as the AV turned into the tree-lined drive that led to the Observatory. There were faster ways to travel around London, but Helix missed what he called the gridlock days. Since removing human control from vehicles in 2025 things had improved but compared to the hyperloop tube network it was still pedestrian.

Helix went to Ethan’s cave, flicking on the air filtration system as he stepped through the airlock doors.

‘Whoa,’ Ethan protested as the fug evaporated. The wheels of his chair squeaked on the floor as he spun round to face his brother.

‘It stinks of bloody weed in here. I’ll be as high as you just from breathing the fumes.’ Helix leant down and gave his brother a bear hug. ‘Where are your legs?’

‘Over there. They were making my stumps itch. Grab a beer from the fridge.’

Helix threw his jacket and shoulder holsters on a bench, grabbed two beers from the bio-hazard labelled fridge and handed one to Ethan. ‘Corona – excellent choice,’ he said, clinking bottles with his brother.

‘Are you OK?’ Ethan said, leaning an elbow on his bench.

‘Yeah. I’ve had better days, but I’ll survive.’ Helix sipped his beer. ‘Sorry about earlier, I just—’

‘I know.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Gonna be weird without the old man around.’

‘You got that right.’ Helix sighed. ‘Anyway, what’s the latest?’

‘Not a lot. They’ve just recovered his body,’ Ethan said, stubbing out his joint. ‘I’ll get the post mortem report as soon as it’s out. There won’t be any surprises.’

‘No?’

Ethan shook his head. ‘According to his bio-monitors, he was alive when he went out of the window. Sorry, Nate.’

Helix perched on